


In Loving Grief

by Citywriter12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 06:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Citywriter12/pseuds/Citywriter12
Summary: Dorcas wasn’t religious. She never went to church on Sundays or prayed to any God asking for help in her times of need. She didn’t even know if she believed in such a thing. A small part of her wondered if it would have been different, had she asked, but in the end she knew it wouldn’t have made a difference. No invisible deity would have protected Marlene. That was her responsibility, and she had failed…





	In Loving Grief

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this song](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/497509) by Lewis Capaldi. 
  * Inspired by [this song](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/497512) by Alex G. 



Rain had just begun to fall by the time she reached the courtyard, but the air was silent and still. Faded light came from the oil street lamp that stood solemnly at the gate, guiding lost souls to the entrance. She couldn't remember deciding to come here. Only that she knew she couldn't spend another minute in that flat. As full of people as it was, to her it was empty. It would always be empty.  


The rain was falling harder now. Each drop stung her skin more than the last, but she was numb to the feeling. Fog hung heavy in the air and the smell of wet grass and gravel blended together, as if to smother everything around her in a dull haze. Slowly she followed the path through the stone fence, past the rows of headstones and flower tributes, up the steps and through the heavy oak doors. They creaked as she pulled them open, perhaps sensing why she was there, but made no further protest as she walked down the isle and stopped at a pew three rows from the front.  


She sat facing the front of the small church, quiet and unmoving, with her breathing shallow. Her black dress was wrinkled from being soaked in the rain and for the first time since she had put it on two weeks before, the ring around her finger felt tight and uncomfortable. She let her eyes trace the room, beginning with the small candles scattered across the stage. They flickered every time the wind blew against the rickety wood framing, causing shadows to dance across the walls. The other details were less mesmerizing. Wreaths leaned against pillars and flowers stood in marble archways. A cloth stitched with a cross hung over the alter and behind it was a window stained with color. She imagined what it must look like during daylight: the sun bringing light and life into the church, shining through the stained-glass window to fill the room with warmth and the choral voices filling it with song. But in the darkness, the church was cold and silent.  


Dorcas wasn't religious. She never went to church on Sundays or prayed to any God asking for help in her times of need. She didn’t even know if she believed in such a thing. Lily had talked about it on occasion, how muggles would come to ask for forgiveness or protection. They’d ask for miracles and then get angry when no miracle appeared. A small part of her wondered if it would have been different, had she asked, but in the end she knew it wouldn’t have made a difference. No invisible deity would have protected Marlene. That was her responsibility, and she had failed.  


It should have been easy, simple, uncomplicated. It should have been lazy mornings buried under covers and walks through the neighbourhood in the summer, hot tea with warm woollen socks curled up on the couch in autumn, birthdays and drunken adventures. None of this was supposed to be lonely and cruel. They were supposed to be together, she had promised: always together. But Dorcas should have known it was an impossible thing to promise in the middle of a war.  


A surge of wind blew over the church and the old building moaned in solidarity. She looked up to stare at the dull stained-glass window and scoffed - she knew exactly how it felt. There was no light now, no warmth, no life. She was used to battle scars. As a healer, she saw them all the time and she knew the best remedies. But she didn’t know how to remedy this. Her heart had been lost, ripped from her chest without mercy, and the ache of the void left behind was unbearable. Her eyes stung with tears she'd been crying for days, but she was silent. So many things were lost to her now and the church echoed her despair in the storm.  


They had wasted so much time. All those years they should have just been together but instead Dorcas had feared the future. She had feared the uncertainty of falling in love and fighting a war. Marlene had been fearless. She laughed at death and lived in violent shades of colour. She was lightning and passion and everything good in the world. It was a blessing to be loved by Marlene. The problem with being loved like that is everything reminds you of it and there’s no escape because none of it is real. The flat is still empty, the bed is still cold, and the air is still silent.  


The light that filled the small church began to dim as the candles surrendered to the wind. Dorcas stood and with shaking hands, made her way down the aisle. It wasn’t anything like how she imagined it. Her eyes stayed fixated on the cross instead of the blonde-haired girl that had changed her forever. Dorcas Meadowes wasn’t religious, but in that moment, she fell to her knees at the alter and cried. Forever at the mercy of the dancing shadows that now haunted her soul and the lifeless silence surrounding her. Drowning in her loving grief.


End file.
